20. Sultan (Patreon)

Hassan always felt nervous when he was in the imperial palace. Even if it was his birthplace, the majestic building was but a hostile environment. Maids and guards avoided looking at HIM, but he knew they were scheming and/or feeding intelligence to his siblings.

He kept his posture straight and regal. Showing fear was showing weakness, and he wasn’t the same kid as before. He was now a mighty lord, thousands of lives hung on his every whim.

With a vital pulse, Hassan checked that no servants were looking at him and allowed himself to puff some vitality-charged air. His siblings stressed him, but the true fear in his heart was none other than the Sultana of Ydaz.

He knocked three times on the audience hall’s colossal door. Instantly, some guards proceeded to open it from the other side. It took them thirty seconds to fully open the mammoth piece of stonework.

Yes, the doors were made out of limestone.

Steeling his mind, he took one step forward and shouted for everyone in the room to hear. “My Sultana, I, Hassan-al-Sadina, have arrived at your summon!”

The room was mostly open, with two servants at each side of the sultana and two guards at the doors. Considering the might of the person on the throne, there were three more guards than needed.

“Ah, yes. Hassan~” She spoke without any care or acknowledgment of his presence.

Yes, her.

Hassan kneeled before Aaliyah-al-Ydaz, the ruler of the Qiraji Desert and the Sultana of Ydaz.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, my son?” Aaliyah-al-Ydaz stated with a shed of boredom in her voice. One hand was on her face hiding a yawn, the other extended at the side of the armrest as a maid tried with all her might to puncture her fingertip with a menacingly sharp needle. Judging by the incredible red visage and the blood vessels popping in the maid’s arm and forehead, she was having a lot of trouble with her task.

On the other hand, Hassan was in a moral conundrum. Should he direct to her as her mother or the sultana? Aaliyah-al-Ydaz was quite volatile with titles, and getting the wrong honorific could lead you to her wrong side.

And you didn’t want to be on the wrong side of Aaliyah-al-Ydaz.

I should have bribed someone to know her mood today. With his very limited information, Hassan opted for the former. She had referred to him as her son, after all, instead of an Emir.

“Indeed it has been, Mother.”

“Come on, Hassan. Raise your head.” And so, he did.

It wouldn’t be an understatement to call Aaliyah-al-Ydaz the most beautiful woman in all of Ydaz if not the whole world. Her bronze skin was delectable, and her violet eyes penetrated through anyone’s soul. She irradiated a powerful innate charisma that was difficult to resist against. A dark ebony mane flowed behind her, so long that it seemed part of a dress.

And talking about clothing... she had almost none.

If the sultana decided to go around near naked, it wasn’t public indecency, but a decree. Aaliyah-al-Ydaz wore a transparent magenta short top that quite literally left nothing to the imagination. And it didn’t help that her breasts were as big as watermelons. At least she covered her nether regions with a set of pink undergarments embroiled in gold. Aaliyah-al-Ydaz wore more trinkets and gold than actual clothing. From wristbands and necklaces to bracelets and rings on the legs and feet. Her attire resembled more of a courtesan dancer than an empress.

Her beauty was so majestic that even Hassan, her own son, couldn’t help but be partially captivated.

Though the sultan’s slender figure was broken by her rounded belly. Somehow, the curves of pregnancy added to her beauty. There hasn’t been a day that I haven’t seen her pregnant. Hassan thought.

One of Aaliyah-al-Ydaz’s titles was The Broodmother, and it wasn’t for nothing. Whilst she looked incredibly young, she had surpassed her sixties a while ago, and in that span, she had had more than thirty children.

At his twenty-five years, Hassan looked older than her mother.

And because Aaliyah-al-Ydaz wasn’t bothered by gender or pregnancy, the imperial harem was far bigger than his family tree. Hundreds of members composed her mother’s harem. Whether they be nobles, guards, maids, or even members of the imperial family, Aaliyah-al-Ydaz's lust knew no boundaries.

Hassan didn’t even doubt that her mother had laid her hand on the other four other people in the audience hall.

“Why have you summoned me, Mother?” Then he slightly corrected his manners. “I attended your summon instantly, of course, but it lacked any explanation.”

“Do I need a reason to summon my children to my palace?” Her violet eyes penetrated his built body without difficulty. Her sight astute and cutting.

“O-of course not, Mother.” Even the mighty Emir of Sadina trembled before the Sultana of Ydaz.

“I see.” Then she started playing with the maid at her left, caressing the young woman’s cheeks and making her redden. “How long have you been the Emir of Sadina, Hassan-al-Sadina?”

He noticed the sudden change in titles. “Five years now, my Sultana,” Hassan added with a bow.

“Then you are..?” Aaliyah-al-Ydaz looked at him with confusion, but thankfully, he was able to understand her wishes.

“Twenty-five, my Sultan.”

“Twenty-five and you aren’t married?” The woman stated as she got more salacious with her touches. Prompting a muted moan or two from the maid. “I even heard you don’t have a harem. Quite disappointing.”

“My Sultana, is that why you requested attendance?” Hassan inquired. “I am being wed?”

“No, and no.” Aaliyah-al-Ydaz sighed. “Just a mother’s curiosity. The real topic is another, but why haven’t you married? Do you fancy men? I have no problems with such inclinations whilst you continue to extend the bloodline.”

“No, Mother.” Hassan switched titles once more. “The sudden departure of the previous Emir left a bureaucratic hole in the administration of Sadina, and I have been these five years solving it. As you may already know, Sadina is a hotspot for commerce, and a lot of my resources are tied to such affairs. I have had no time for marriage or establishing an official harem but be assured that I have not left my cultivation behind.”

“I see.” The sultan added with a hint of annoyance and pressed the maid’s breasts, prompting a cute ‘eep!’ squeal from the girl. “Then you won’t be unbeknownst to the reason why I called you. Refresh me, Hassan-al-Sadina, why did the previous Emir of Sadina perish?”

The air in the room suddenly turned frigid.

“Because his edicts were against the assassins.” The emir responded with total confidence as cold sweat trickled down his nape.

“Yes, that old dumb fuck decided to halt the local drug production. And the local branch of assassins killed him. Simple as that.”

“If you may allow me,” Hassan interjected, “my predecessor did not halt the production. Only decreased it because the region was going through a famine. So, he wisely decided to feed the population instead of feeding the addiction of the assassins.”

“Wisely, huh.” Aaliyah-al-Ydaz snickered and nonchalantly led her free hand to the nether regions of the maid. The servant was on the verge of tears, but Hassan could tell those weren’t of pain or sadness, but ecstasy. “He lowered, ONLY LOWERED, the production of drugs and the assassins offed him.”

Hassan shivered.

“Why are you telling me this,” he quickly recalled the previous time the sultan referred to him, “my Sultana?”

“My son, the assassin activities of Sadina have become rather er-“

“Augh!” The sultan was interrupted by the groan of one of the maids. Not the one that was being ravished even now, but the other one who had been trying to puncture the sultan’s fingertip with a needle all this time.

The maid’s expression became mortified after she noticed that she had interrupted the great sultana mid-speech, but she measly bowed and continued to her task as it was of utmost importance. The maid grabbed a glass flask and put it under Aaliyah-al-Ydaz’s fingertip waiting for a drop of blood to fall into.

Aaliyah-al-Ydaz’s blood, the blood of a longevous cultivator like her, was able to revitalize whole regions of the Qiraji desert even with a single drop. Such was the raw power of a master of Nurture.

Even with her reddened expression from the sheer force she had to apply to puncture the skin, the maid waited patiently between pants for the blood to trickle. The sultana’s blood was thicker and denser than quicksilver, and rumors told that her heart had enough power to send an elephant catatonic if it was ever transplanted.

The sheer strength of Aaliyah-al-Ydaz was something that could not be comprehended by mere mortals.

“As I was saying,” the sultana continued without paying attention to either of the maids, though both of them had their legs trembling, for totally opposite reasons that is, “the activities of assassins in your domain have become erratic.”

“What do you mean, my liege?”

“Something has perturbed their distribution.” The woman put more impetus on her assaulting hand as a hint of anger lingered in her voice. “Not much, just a hiccup. But those people are volatile, and the slightest change in the flow of drugs irritates them.”

“What do you intend me to do then? Kill them?” Hassan asked nervously.

“Kill them?” Aaliyah-al-Ydaz laughed. “You can’t kill those rats, more will pop up. And if you do so, others will come to kill you. Assassins aren’t like cultivators; they don’t need eternal training. Anyone short of me is on their plate, remember that.”

“Yes, my Sultana.” The emir bowed. “What should I do then?”

“Nothing.” The woman stated. “I just wanted to warn you. I don’t want to bother putting other people in power.”

Bother. That was the true reason. She didn’t care about Sadina or the wellbeing of her son, she had tens of others, no. What irked the sultana was the nuisance of another ceremony. Of another promotion.

“I’ll take your words close to heart, my Sultana.” And keep my thoughts even closer.

“Well then, you are dismissed, Hassan-al-Sadina.” As Aaliyah-al-Ydaz said that, finally the drop of blood left her finger.

The maid holding the flask quickly put a cork on it and held the blood in high reverence. The single drop of crimson fire could sustain a farmland in a harsh environment for a year.

“Wait, son.” As Hassan proceeded to stand up, the sultana stopped her. “It’s early in the morning and I have yet to have breakfast, accompany me to the dining hall.”

“Yes, Mother.” Hassan bowed even deeper. That was not a petition. But an order.

He heard the sounds of footsteps approaching and a warm hand rested on his shoulders. “Come on, son.”

Hassan raised his face to look at his mother, a figure far taller than him that couldn’t be appreciated when she sat on the throne.

Tall. Regal. Beautiful.

Those were the only words able to describe the Sultana of Ydaz. A towering two-meter woman, brandishing bronze skin and powerful violet eyes. As Aaliyah-al-Ydaz walked, the Emir of Sadina followed along with the maids, the woman’s wide hips used to childbearing swayed from side to side deliciously. Able to enchant anyone, no matter their gender or inclinations. She pushed the two heavy stone doors with a flick of her hand.

That was Aaliyah-al-Ydaz.